An Imagined Affair MerlinMab Part Four
by Libitine
Summary: Merlin is taught a bit more than he expected from his "Mother"


Merlin sighed deeply, turning the ancient page of the book in his lap. The print was small and after reading for hours, the text began to look like little ants, crawling and running about in fuzzy uncoordinated lines. The book itself was large and smelled of dust and mold; a stuffy choking smell that always made him wrinkle his nose when one of the books were opened. He imagined Frik didn't have students in the castle too often. Neither he nor her Majesty was the best of housekeepers. The boredom was unreal and she hadn't even been around to watch his practice that day. She had stopped coming after a little incident involving flowers.

You see, Frik had asked him to light a candle, something that should have been very simple after their weeks of practice. When she walked in, he froze. His palms itched and his fingers twitched, not to mention the funny feeling he got in his pants when she was around; near. He had gotten nervous. "Now Master Merlin," Frik had said gently, to encourage him to perform to his best when she was in the room, so as Frik wouldn't be punished. "Do show Madame what we have been learning." He tapped his foot and cleared his throat. "T-the candle?" He had whispered nervously as she examined her sharp black fingernails with disinterest. He imagined those nails scraping the skin off his back as they traveled down his spine, leaving raised trails of red water.

"Master Merlin," Frik had egged on, beginning to redden as the Queen had sighed, sitting in her chair and crossing her long snow-colored legs. In Merlin's head, he could envision those perfect lengths of white wrapping around his body, one on his waist, the next entrapping his ankles. He would trace his trembling fingers from her heel to her hip, following the veins all the way up, leaving kisses were he pleased if he could ever tear his mouth from hers.

The gnome whimpered and Merlin blinked hastily, trying to clear his mind. "R-right," He whispered and began the incantation. Halfway through, he glanced up at her. Oh what a mistake that was. His eyes caught her silken strands of shimmering black hair and his eyes watered. The image of the stone carving flickered into his head. The traces of flowers mingling in her raven locks. Flowers. The candle smoked, popped and then there was a clap of thunder. Three pairs of eyes slowly looked at the ceiling before a shower of white and purple flowers began. They landed almost perfectly around the Queen of the Old Ways and the young wizard could hear Frik whimper and recoil, shifting behind his student. Merlin had looked down when the thunder began and when he had started to see flowers land at his feet.

"Frik," Came a raspy whisper. "I expect a full report by this evening." Merlin heard the servant mutter quickly to her Majesty before a blinding flash in which she had left the room; unimpressed. Merlin's face had been as red as the blood he had imagined flowing down his back. Frik was sweating bullets, quickly wiping his forehead with a handkerchief and shaking out his hands, as if to remove the recurring feeling of nervousness. "W-we sh-hould w-work on your, um, y-your spells, oh, M-master M-merlin." He mumbled. "Oh gods, I am doomed." Frik winced, crossing the room and setting a long line of candles up at the end of the table. Merlin had endured over two hours more of lighting and putting out candles while Frik tried to collect himself. While the pupil was assigned more reading, her Highness's servant had to draft a formal report of progress for her little creation. Every once and a while he would stop and whimper and put his face in his hand, completely unnerved at the very thought of going one-on-one with his Mistress after that little display.

At the present moment, Merlin was alone; Frik had reported to present his report hours ago, without giving the young man any direction about dinner or how much he had to read. So there he sat, feeling utterly useless and incredibly stupid about what had gone on that day. Why did he turn into such a mess around her? Why did he screw up so badly? Why couldn't he impress her? It was pitiful. How could he expect to serve her as the champion – as the wizard – she wanted if he couldn't light a simple candle in front of her?

The door creaked and Merlin didn't look up, expecting it to be Frik, come to teach him further or bring him dinner or direct to bed. There was a quick, wispy motion and then silence. Did Frik honestly expect him to acknowledge his presence? Merlin rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers on the spine of the book. "This is such a waste of time." He muttered hopelessly.

"What is Merlin?" A hoarse whisper sounded from behind him. He turned with a start to see the Queen of the Old Ways herself, Queen Mab, standing behind his chair, her hands on the top of the chair, leaning in close. Her bright eyes scanned the text and she smirked. "I would see why the reading would be difficult, _darling_," She purred. "Your book is upside down."

Merlin sensed every drop of blood in his body flood to his cheeks and a burning feeling tingled his skin. "Oh, well, I was . . ." He stammered and looked down at the small words, trying to come up with an excuse. He turned his head slightly as she leaned in closer, taking in the gentle scent of lilacs that made every hair on his body stand up in respectful salute.

"You were . . .?" She said, playfully raising an eyebrow in amusement. He shrugged. What a fool he was. He had to learn to talk to her. "Nothing." Merlin whispered. "I just wanted to apologize for this, um, this a-afternoon." She tilted her head, eyes glittering in the gentle candlelight, skin glowing in radiance. "You just need practice." She said gently. "Nothing I can't fix." He blinked slowly. "You?" Merlin whispered. "You want to teach me?" She nodded, walking to the front of the chair and past him. She reached the table and put her hands on the edge of the wood. "What do you want to learn?"

What a question. He watched her eyes; how they stared at him in malevolence. What did he want to learn? He wanted to learn how to make her scream for him. How to slap her and hit her and give her violent thrusts without bruising her tender skin.

"What can you teach me?" Merlin replied smoothly, standing from his chair and walking to the other side of the table. His eyes locked with hers. "Everything," She whispered. "I can teach you everything you would ever want to know."

He must have fallen out of time. It mustn't have been him. Someone must have taken over Merlin's body for a moment. For in an instant, he had crossed the room. He had taken her tightly in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. She had responded positively, allowing his hands to explore her body. Merlin forced her back against the bookcase and she lifted herself up on the shelf, one hand gripping a wooden ladder used to reach books near the ceiling, the other tugging at his shirt. His lips tended to the skin on her neck without reserve and moved quickly down to her cleavage. She trembled, shuddered, and gave a gentle cry. He was so hard; so ready to take her. Her left leg moved away from the right one and wrapped around the ladder, giving him room. He unlaced her dress and it fell to her waist, black glistening corset in his sight. Her right leg coiled around his waist and she pulled him roughly into her, hips to hips, like a dream.

His hand worked on his pants and after the slightest delay he got them open. She gave another teased cry as he took her, slid up inside her body like poisonous snake. Her knuckles turned white gripping the wood of the ladder. He gave a hard thrust up and her back collided with the rows and rows of books. The skin bruised behind the thick bone corset and he knew but didn't care. He pushed against her and she pushed back harder. His hand snaked up to her wrist and he pinned her to the bookshelf, pumping life all throughout her body. Like a dream.

She freed her wrist and drew herself up further on the shelf. Her hand flew to his back and her nails dug into his skin, tearing through the cloth and trailing down his spine. "Merlin. . ." She whispered. He stopped for half a second. "No, no." She half gasped half laughed as red stained his brown sack tunic. "Don't stop." His hand grabbed her waist and she gave a sharp breath as he pulled her closer.

Dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, covering her darkened back and small strands floating over her eyes. He lifted his lips to hers and kissed them gently, gradually stopping in his brutal shoves as he removed himself from her. Her body slid down slowly, one leg dropping down against the shelf and the other used to support her weight. He let go of her waist and she brought her lips to his ear. "Someone's coming."

- - - -

"Master Merlin," Frik whispered, shaking the young boy in his chair. "Master Merlin _do_ wake up." Merlin opened his eyes slowly and stared at Frik in wonder. "Mab?" He whispered, looking around the room. "What?" Frik said. "No, Master Merlin, Madame isn't here. She had some business to attend to. Now the real question is, why are you still in here? You should have retired to your bedroom _hours _ago. Come now, Master Merlin, follow me. You need your rest." Frik yammered. "Madame has a very busy day planned for you tomorrow. She wants you to get everything just right."

Merlin sulked to his room. What a dream he had had. A dream. A farce. It had been so real. It couldn't have been a dream. "Goodnight Master Merlin." Frik said upon leading the young protégé to his room. "I will come with breakfast in the morning." Merlin hadn't time to respond before the gnome had disappeared in thin air.

He flopped onto his bed, burring his face in his pillows. "No." He whimpered. He went to raise his arm, and as he did, felt a searing pain in his back. Slowly getting back out of bed, Merlin stumbled to the washroom to look in the mirror. Turning carefully and removing his tunic, he examined himself. Merlin's flesh was streaked with red; four perfect lines marked expertly across his skin.


End file.
